i'm thinking, yeah, headlights
are especially beautiful tonight,
so (let's get fucked up & die) i'm lighting
my cigarette and smiling around the gloss
stained filter & i'm sinning six ways to
midnight tomorrow, thinking about his hips
(and my teeth on them, with his jeans around his ankles
and my back against his bed)

I dream of words on my arms,
blue ink & porcelain eyes, blurred bymonths lived to fast
like a six track tape that your dad used to play
on the weekends.
(I play Russian roulette with a fistful of twenties
& a temper full of heart break)

and I'm thinking, yeah, headlights
are especially beautiful tonight

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